I have told you many personal stories, that is fine and dandy. I have so many more, but I wanted to write about some culture type stuff as well, and I feel I have neglected you by not discussing this aspect.
Specifically, I wanted to talk about celebrations and ceremonies that take place for a family. I will try to be as organized as possible about this, and keep it simple. In Morocco, there are really generally four (maybe five) occasions that are celebrated. I will first discuss each individual occasion, and then I will discuss how and what occurs during the celebration. Luckily, the “what occurs during” is generally the same for all the occasions. So this allows me to break-out into really specific details.
Using the timeline of an individual life, I can break the events down pretty easy, so lets kick it:
Birth: This event is supposed to (according to tradition) take place 7 days after the birth of a child. The time varies, especially when a child is born early, and family has to travel from far around to the celebration. (I have also seen three weeks as well). This is a one or two day event.
Circumcision: For boys, obviously (maybe not so obvious, but I do know that Morocco is a country that does not have an issue with female circumcision, which is completely inhumane.) This event occurs at varying times, I am still not sure, generally around 4 years old. As I said, it varies depending on the family, and probably the money to have the celebration. This is a one day event.
Engagement/Marriage: I broke this off into a separate category (hence the four or five). I do not think that every family has separate engagement and marriage celebrations, but it does occur, especially when family is spread apart, and marriage does not take place during the typical marriage season (my host family for instance has done this recently.) Marriage Season usually is in the summer, between late May and August. This is a multi-day event.
Funeral: This is the final stage in life, and there is a mourning/celebration for the family. While much more somber than those above, it is still a gathering of relatives and family. A few points comparing between the states: A body is typically buried the day of or day after the death. While this is cultural, I think this stems from decomposition and health issues arising with dead/decaying bodies. Generally in rural areas, the family can be there within a day, so they can take part as well (*unlike in the states, where arrangements have to be made and it can be a week sometimes.)
So those are the four/five occasions that are celebrated within families. Now I will discuss the general setup of the celebrations, and what takes place. There are a few variables to keep in mind as I delve into this:
1.Conservative vs. Liberal – Conservative families separate the men and the women for celebrations, liberal families may have some or all of it together.
2.Close Family vs. Friends - Depending on the people are close family, they may keep it all together. If many friends and towns-people are attending, they may separate the sexes.
Guests at a celebration bring gifts. The most typical gift is a cone of sugar, or a bag of sugar. Money is also a typical and accepted gift. For a baby, some baby clothes can be typical as well.
When you arrive at the party, you (like anytime going into a house) greet the family, and tell them congrats for the event (maybe not the funeral…). You give them your gift, and then they show you into your respective room. I will discuss each of those rooms now.
If you are showed into the men’s room, you usually are in a nice communal room, and you sit down, and just talk with those around you. As more and more people show up, there is more and more talking. When the family deems the room is full, they start with the drinks/food.
I will step back for a minute to make some very important observations. In a communal room of men, depending on the size of the village, you may know all of the men, or just some of the men. There are religious Imams that attend (to lead the prayers), and there are important townspeople as well. With the men (As it is many times) this is very political. This is an opportunity to discuss important town events, gossip, and to “be seen.” So as people are coming into the room, they are invited or just sit by their friends, or they invite important people to sit by them. It truly is very political.
So now that everyone is in the room, the family designates one or two people (depending on the size of the party) to be tea pourers/makers for the men. These are ALWAYS respected and/or important people in the community. Usually there is a refusal at first, and other people are suggested. People try to be humble about it, but it is an honor to be asked to make and pour tea. Then before tea is poured for everyone, the Imams lead the group in a blessing.
After this, there are two rounds of tea. Same person pours, and blessings are said again. Then, it is time to eat. Tables are brought in, and then there are usually two or three courses, followed by a fruit dessert.
The first dish usually consists of mostly meat, usually the sheep that was slaughtered for the event. After this dish (sometimes two meat dishes) couscous is served as the final dish. There are variations of all of the dishes (how meat is prepared, how couscous it served.) but this is the general layout. There is a dessert of melon, which is in season during the summer months. Oh yeah, and this is another HUGE point. The men ALWAYS eat first before the women. The women are not allowed to eat before the men. Another point, the family does all of the serving the guests. Depending on how big the celebration is, the extended family does as well (and men serve the men, and both men and women serve the women). If it is close family, usually just the women serve and clean. After this is finished, there is another round of prayers/blessings for the event, and then tea is served. After the final tea, men are free to go.
If you are ushered into the woman’s room, you usually enter to loud music and dancing. Women dress up in their nicest djellabas (men do not usually.) There is a drum music, and sometimes pipe music as well. The women who wish to dance (At first, all of them) dance in a circle, and they chant various verses that are made up by the leader (maybe a hired musician, or family members). Women also let their hair down and twirl it around, and belly-dance as well. As I said, men are not typically aloud, as this is very risqué for the culture. This dancing goes on for hours sometimes (the men are eating). After the men finish eating, the women may or may not have tea, and then they are aloud to eat. They eat the same types of foods as the men. After eating, the women sometimes can go, or sometimes they get back together and dance some more. Sometimes, it is all of the family and super close friends dancing and celebrating, and non-family men have left. This can go on for hours (sometimes all night.) Then at some point, people get tired, or just stop.
This is the general way that everything is celebrated here. The only variation is the marriage celebration, where there is a procession of the bride and groom, and there are all sorts of gifts that are given and celebrated by the family. Typically, dates (the fruits) and various candies and foods are given for the husband/wife. Also, they drink from a glass of milk (and each serves the other by putting the glass to the lips of the other.) There is no kissing (that would be shameful), nor hand holding. The Bride and the Groom wear white outfits. Also, the tradition of the “morning after” blood on the sheet still occurs sometimes. Sometimes, it is just chicken blood. Henna is also used in most occasions, for the women. I have known of celebrations for marriage that have occurred for five days, where the first nights are for family, and the last two nights being first for men from outside the family, then the final night for mostly women (some men too), and the final night also having the large processional parade (of walking, then driving cars and honking horns).
I believe this covers the general types of celebrations and what occurs at the celebrations. I have been to all so far but a funeral, and it is really interesting to observe so many social and political aspects of the men’s side, and then the fun of the women’s side. Sometimes, the drum beats and chants gets too repetitive (it can last like 5 hours), but it is still great to see and interact with the family. I also must point this out. As a foreigner, myself and other volunteers get treated more like family then just friends. We usually are free to be with the men (unless you are a woman) and also with the family dancing (we are not viewed as preying upon the women). If there are many volunteers present (only occurs in training settings) we can eat together (men and women volunteers) at our own table. We sort of get special treatment in these situations, party because usually a volunteer is in the family. Sometimes we also help serve the men and the women, and help with the set-up. This is appreciated by the family (usually a host family).
I hope this gives you an insight on the celebrations of the culture, and you can use it to compare with the way we celebrate various occasions in certain religions or cultural settings. If you have questions or need more clarification, email me or comment on the post. Hope that you are all doing well, and talk to you soon!
Book of the Moment: Jared Diamond – “Collapse”
Album of the Moment: Eddie Vedder – “Into the Wild” Sountrack
Much Love!
Eric
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
The Good Things about Life
I promise that there are good things that happen here. I most certainly do not wish my blog to be a receptacle of sad and frustrating stories. So I am going to tell you now about a good day, a series of events that make me happy that I am here in Morocco, and talk about the good side of the people that I live near. This story is from a week ago, and I will try to recall the events with the same reflective nature that I initially felt.
I woke up feeling happy and refreshed. I was somewhat sad to be leaving my fellow friends. I had just spent a weekend visiting some other PCVs on the other side of the park that I live near. We had been celebrating a number of things. First, there were the birthdays, one actual birthday, and a half-birthday. I mean, Yes, it needed to be celebrated. Also we were celebrating the birthday of our country, and celebrating the Fourth of July. I firmly believe that holidays are best celebrated outside of the country for which they are held. You have a firm belief in them, and you certainly cherish the celebration and the comradery. I mean, we technically are all employed by the government, so this is a reason we are able to come here.
The celebration consisted of making pizza, and garlic sticks. I was pleased that my year of employment at Papa Johns gave me incredible pizza making skills. After we ate lemon bars, apple pie, and carrot cake to top it all off. There were about 11 of us there, and we just hung out and chatted. But I am digressing from the day I wish to discuss.
SO, as I said, I woke up happy, but wishing that I could stay in my bed. But I had a long trip ahead of me, and I needed to go out to the road early in order to take transit that could leave at anytime. I headed out, and went to the road to wait. I sat there for a while, and some other folks were waiting there for the transit as well.
Two hours pass, and about this time, it is beginning to get hot, and I am trying to stay in the shade. I start talking to a guy, and we go through the typical conversation, where are you from, what do you do here, where do you live, where are you going, and the always present question… are you married??? It was a good conversation, and as I said, very typical. It was nice to chat with someone, but at this point I have to use the bathroom (I think I have a parasite by the way), so I do that business. I come back out to the road and the man is gone, and there are more people waiting for the same transit that I am.
Two more hours pass, and it is noon (you probably are wondering why this is a happy story). I am getting impatient, and my decision on route of getting home is being questioned over and over in my mind. But it was too late, I had committed, so I was in it for better or worse. I then talk to the same guy again, and he tells me to come and have some tea with him and another man. He introduces me to the man, who is waiting as well for this transit.
During this time, a car (looks like a taxi) pulls up, and people ask the guy where he is going, and he says no where (I think… maybe he said, not for a while). But as I sitting there having tea, the car owner gets red paint, and paints a taxi ID on the back of his car (all taxis have to have them or they are illegal). But I found this humorous, but knew this guy was going somewhere soon. The guy I am sitting with calls the driver over, and basically reserves me and the other guy at our table a place in the taxi. This is a good thing, as about this time there were 15 people trying to get 6 spots. So I lucked out, probably because I was a foreigner, and spoke the language (it happens sometimes here, it is what we refer to as “rock star status”).
So luckily (or not) I get a spot in the taxi. The trip is a few hours, and I now know I can make it back to my site and my own home. I originally wanted to be back by noon, in order to make it to my weekly souq and buy the vegetables and fruits that I would need.
I enjoy the ride in the taxi immensely. I am driving through incredible mountain scenery. I know a fair bit about geology and forms, and the mountains have all sorts of textbook examples of thrust faults, layers, and folding. It is barren, so it just sticks out everywhere. Very few trees exist (maybe 1-2 per square mile IF that), so I am able to just take in the curvy rugged mountains, and really appreciate the geology that they contain.
In addition to the pretty sites, we drive through flocks of sheep and shepherds just lying on the ground napping. Sheep take care of themselves here, and the shepherds have to watch their flocks, but not so closely. There are not any big predators (they were all killed off over the past 100 years… think cats and lions and jackals and hyenas) so the sheep just graze. The shepherd gets them in at the end of the day. There are flocks of sheep in the road, and we have to stop for a minute because the sheep are refusing to move.
We go through several mountain villages, and people outside working their fields look up to see if they know who is in the taxi. I can only imagine how isolated yet amazing living in a place like this would be. We finally get to our destination, and rather than just go on my own, the friend I made before the taxi ride wants to have a drink (coffee/coke). I am kind of in a hurry, so he shows me/helps me to see if there are any taxis, and there are not. I have to go from this town to the main road and catch a bus. I have no idea how far the main road is (remember this!!) and he suggests that I take a transit to the main road. However, I do not wish to wait the one hour for this transit. So I start off on my own.
I walk up the hill, and in the distance there is thunder and rain. I hope that this rain is not intended for me. I run into a few people, and talk to them, and they ask where I am going. I tell them I am going to the main road to catch a bus. They say to me “It is far!! to the road.” I ask how far, and the man says 5-6km. I think to myself that this is not too far, and so I will walk it. So I begin on my way. As I go, a car passes, and half-heartedly I wave it down, so I could ask the guy a question. We talk for a minute, he seems like a good guy, and tells me he will take me. So I get in, and we are off.
We have a great conversation, and my new friend speaks English as well as Spanish. He actually mistakes me for being Spanish (I get this often, almost daily, probably because of my hair). He tells me he has lived in Spain working, and due to the economic situation, he is unemployed. Like a said, great guy, nice, and we have a great conversation. We talk about family, what I am doing here, and what he does in Spain and back here. He is around my age, a few years older actually, so we relate pretty well (except I am not married with a child!)
As I get into the car first, I take note of the odometer to see how many kilometers it is to the main road. In fact, it is not 5-6km, it is 25km. I would have walked all day and not made it, and I met a really nice guy. He tells me he will drop me off at the main road, he has to take care of some business in Khenifra, the big city nearby. We get to the main road, and the guy wants to have tea, which I definitely say yes to. He apologizes to me for not being able to take me further, and if he did not have business, he would take me. He promises to call me to make sure I have made it home okay. He goes on his way. I am certainly grateful for this man.
One of the conversations we have is about the friendly, open, welcoming nature of Moroccans. Having lived in Spain, this guy knows that people are cold to strangers, and will not be willing to help out. He says that I am welcome and he should give me a lift. He also invites me to tell him if I am around his area, and he will have me for dinner and to meet his family. This is Moroccan hospitality right here, and it is one of the things I hope to bring back with me. I have grown to dislike “business first” mentality, and it actually turns me off. I want to know about people first, about their family, about their interesting lives, before I get down to business. I reciprocate this man’s offer by telling him he is more than welcome to come and visit, and hang out. I do not do it just to be nice, I truly mean it, and actually hope he comes and visits. I can only hope to give him the same welcome and hospitality as he has given me.
So now I wait for a bus to come. I spill my water on me, and chuckle about it. I am sitting at a basic bus/thru stop, with a few cafes and a few stores. A bus finally comes, and the man who gets out asks me where I am going. I tell him, and he tells me there are no seats. I get worried for a minute, as some busses will not let you stand. I tell the guy I do not care, I just need to go. He is happy, and very friendly. My good string of luck continues, and I stand on the bus for a while until the next stop, and then grab a newly opened seat. I complete my journey by catching my final taxi back to my site. I am happy to be home, but extremely happy with the events of the day.
In every place there are good people, and in every place there are a few bad ones. But days like this where I feel welcome as a visitor, and people try to help me and talk to me just make me happy. I am sure part of it has to do with the fact I feel totally accustomed to living here, getting around, and talking to complete strangers. To be honest, there are people of high importance (sheiks, moqqadems, council people) that I see daily, that would easily pass for homeless and poor in the states. If appearance is everything so often in the states, this is almost the exact opposite. I am not saying that it is okay to have poor hygiene, but being here gives one a new perspective on the way people “appear” to be like.
Current Book - "The Red Pony" John Steinbeck
Current Album - Elvis Costello - "10 years" (kind of like greatest hits)
Much Love,
Me!
I woke up feeling happy and refreshed. I was somewhat sad to be leaving my fellow friends. I had just spent a weekend visiting some other PCVs on the other side of the park that I live near. We had been celebrating a number of things. First, there were the birthdays, one actual birthday, and a half-birthday. I mean, Yes, it needed to be celebrated. Also we were celebrating the birthday of our country, and celebrating the Fourth of July. I firmly believe that holidays are best celebrated outside of the country for which they are held. You have a firm belief in them, and you certainly cherish the celebration and the comradery. I mean, we technically are all employed by the government, so this is a reason we are able to come here.
The celebration consisted of making pizza, and garlic sticks. I was pleased that my year of employment at Papa Johns gave me incredible pizza making skills. After we ate lemon bars, apple pie, and carrot cake to top it all off. There were about 11 of us there, and we just hung out and chatted. But I am digressing from the day I wish to discuss.
SO, as I said, I woke up happy, but wishing that I could stay in my bed. But I had a long trip ahead of me, and I needed to go out to the road early in order to take transit that could leave at anytime. I headed out, and went to the road to wait. I sat there for a while, and some other folks were waiting there for the transit as well.
Two hours pass, and about this time, it is beginning to get hot, and I am trying to stay in the shade. I start talking to a guy, and we go through the typical conversation, where are you from, what do you do here, where do you live, where are you going, and the always present question… are you married??? It was a good conversation, and as I said, very typical. It was nice to chat with someone, but at this point I have to use the bathroom (I think I have a parasite by the way), so I do that business. I come back out to the road and the man is gone, and there are more people waiting for the same transit that I am.
Two more hours pass, and it is noon (you probably are wondering why this is a happy story). I am getting impatient, and my decision on route of getting home is being questioned over and over in my mind. But it was too late, I had committed, so I was in it for better or worse. I then talk to the same guy again, and he tells me to come and have some tea with him and another man. He introduces me to the man, who is waiting as well for this transit.
During this time, a car (looks like a taxi) pulls up, and people ask the guy where he is going, and he says no where (I think… maybe he said, not for a while). But as I sitting there having tea, the car owner gets red paint, and paints a taxi ID on the back of his car (all taxis have to have them or they are illegal). But I found this humorous, but knew this guy was going somewhere soon. The guy I am sitting with calls the driver over, and basically reserves me and the other guy at our table a place in the taxi. This is a good thing, as about this time there were 15 people trying to get 6 spots. So I lucked out, probably because I was a foreigner, and spoke the language (it happens sometimes here, it is what we refer to as “rock star status”).
So luckily (or not) I get a spot in the taxi. The trip is a few hours, and I now know I can make it back to my site and my own home. I originally wanted to be back by noon, in order to make it to my weekly souq and buy the vegetables and fruits that I would need.
I enjoy the ride in the taxi immensely. I am driving through incredible mountain scenery. I know a fair bit about geology and forms, and the mountains have all sorts of textbook examples of thrust faults, layers, and folding. It is barren, so it just sticks out everywhere. Very few trees exist (maybe 1-2 per square mile IF that), so I am able to just take in the curvy rugged mountains, and really appreciate the geology that they contain.
In addition to the pretty sites, we drive through flocks of sheep and shepherds just lying on the ground napping. Sheep take care of themselves here, and the shepherds have to watch their flocks, but not so closely. There are not any big predators (they were all killed off over the past 100 years… think cats and lions and jackals and hyenas) so the sheep just graze. The shepherd gets them in at the end of the day. There are flocks of sheep in the road, and we have to stop for a minute because the sheep are refusing to move.
We go through several mountain villages, and people outside working their fields look up to see if they know who is in the taxi. I can only imagine how isolated yet amazing living in a place like this would be. We finally get to our destination, and rather than just go on my own, the friend I made before the taxi ride wants to have a drink (coffee/coke). I am kind of in a hurry, so he shows me/helps me to see if there are any taxis, and there are not. I have to go from this town to the main road and catch a bus. I have no idea how far the main road is (remember this!!) and he suggests that I take a transit to the main road. However, I do not wish to wait the one hour for this transit. So I start off on my own.
I walk up the hill, and in the distance there is thunder and rain. I hope that this rain is not intended for me. I run into a few people, and talk to them, and they ask where I am going. I tell them I am going to the main road to catch a bus. They say to me “It is far!! to the road.” I ask how far, and the man says 5-6km. I think to myself that this is not too far, and so I will walk it. So I begin on my way. As I go, a car passes, and half-heartedly I wave it down, so I could ask the guy a question. We talk for a minute, he seems like a good guy, and tells me he will take me. So I get in, and we are off.
We have a great conversation, and my new friend speaks English as well as Spanish. He actually mistakes me for being Spanish (I get this often, almost daily, probably because of my hair). He tells me he has lived in Spain working, and due to the economic situation, he is unemployed. Like a said, great guy, nice, and we have a great conversation. We talk about family, what I am doing here, and what he does in Spain and back here. He is around my age, a few years older actually, so we relate pretty well (except I am not married with a child!)
As I get into the car first, I take note of the odometer to see how many kilometers it is to the main road. In fact, it is not 5-6km, it is 25km. I would have walked all day and not made it, and I met a really nice guy. He tells me he will drop me off at the main road, he has to take care of some business in Khenifra, the big city nearby. We get to the main road, and the guy wants to have tea, which I definitely say yes to. He apologizes to me for not being able to take me further, and if he did not have business, he would take me. He promises to call me to make sure I have made it home okay. He goes on his way. I am certainly grateful for this man.
One of the conversations we have is about the friendly, open, welcoming nature of Moroccans. Having lived in Spain, this guy knows that people are cold to strangers, and will not be willing to help out. He says that I am welcome and he should give me a lift. He also invites me to tell him if I am around his area, and he will have me for dinner and to meet his family. This is Moroccan hospitality right here, and it is one of the things I hope to bring back with me. I have grown to dislike “business first” mentality, and it actually turns me off. I want to know about people first, about their family, about their interesting lives, before I get down to business. I reciprocate this man’s offer by telling him he is more than welcome to come and visit, and hang out. I do not do it just to be nice, I truly mean it, and actually hope he comes and visits. I can only hope to give him the same welcome and hospitality as he has given me.
So now I wait for a bus to come. I spill my water on me, and chuckle about it. I am sitting at a basic bus/thru stop, with a few cafes and a few stores. A bus finally comes, and the man who gets out asks me where I am going. I tell him, and he tells me there are no seats. I get worried for a minute, as some busses will not let you stand. I tell the guy I do not care, I just need to go. He is happy, and very friendly. My good string of luck continues, and I stand on the bus for a while until the next stop, and then grab a newly opened seat. I complete my journey by catching my final taxi back to my site. I am happy to be home, but extremely happy with the events of the day.
In every place there are good people, and in every place there are a few bad ones. But days like this where I feel welcome as a visitor, and people try to help me and talk to me just make me happy. I am sure part of it has to do with the fact I feel totally accustomed to living here, getting around, and talking to complete strangers. To be honest, there are people of high importance (sheiks, moqqadems, council people) that I see daily, that would easily pass for homeless and poor in the states. If appearance is everything so often in the states, this is almost the exact opposite. I am not saying that it is okay to have poor hygiene, but being here gives one a new perspective on the way people “appear” to be like.
Current Book - "The Red Pony" John Steinbeck
Current Album - Elvis Costello - "10 years" (kind of like greatest hits)
Much Love,
Me!
Monday, July 06, 2009
Oh Kids, and Cats, and Houses
Hello Again Everyone
I hope that everyone back home is doing well. Despite what you read and may think in this post, I am doing quite well. I just had a not great thing happen, and it was not fun at the time, but it was a good learning experience. What is that you ask?? Here is the story, I will try to be as succinct as I can be.
I was standing the other day talking with a local guy that I usually talk with. He owns a chicken shop, and I was talking with him, and there were about 4 other people there with us. I was facing the back of the shop, and there were two people in front of me. There were two people behind me.
So as I am having this conversation, I feel something on my back-pack (on my back) moving. I quickly turn around, and find that the small compartment has been opened. At the same time I turn around, the kid (12-13 years old) turns and runs away. I walk out of the shop to see where he goes, and then I make sure that I have everything… which luckily I did.
I am pretty flustered by now, and I don’t totally know what to do. I want to find this bonehead kid, but know he is long gone. So I leave, and go to see my site-mate, to see if she is around for her advice. She is not home, so I text her and go back towards the chicken-shop. I stop and talk to a few people, trying to be as normal as possible, and then from the corner of my eye I see the kid back in the chicken shop. I sneak up behind him, so he does not see me, and then when he turns around, I start talking to him.
Now a lot happened in a short time. About the time I start talking to him (actually I was being firm and probably yelling) he is kind of cowering in this corner that I backed him into, as if I am going to lay into him and beat him up (which crossed my mind, but I know better.) I am yelling at him “Where are your parents?!?!?” repeatedly. I get this out about three times, and the chicken-shop owner, afraid that I was going to hit him, tries to get in the middle to make sure this does not happen. The kid/boy/thief took the opportunity and ran away again.
I then told the other people there that I was not going to hit him, and talked to them for a little. I left, walked around, talked to my site-mate, who then gave me a bit of advice, and I went back to the shop and had a few questions for people.
I mainly wanted to know where this kid’s parents lived, and also I wanted to ask if any of them saw anything happen. So I go back to the chicken-shop, and ask what they saw. All four of the people tell me they saw nothing happen. I understand the two people in front of me, one talking to me, the other working on getting a chicken ready. The two behind me also claimed they saw nothing. I completely did not believe them however, and so I told a couple of them that “God sees everything” and “may God cover your sins.” The reason I used these phrases is that the chicken-shop owner is very-religious, and has tried on occasion to discuss religion, something I do very rarely, even back home. I could tell by his reaction that he was hiding something, and this was frustrating.
I begin to ask the two people left in the shop where the kid’s parents were at, and told them that I needed to talk to them. I was told by one of them that it was no problem, and they would talk to the parents. I told him that would not work, and I was the one that needed to talk to them, and now. He said okay, and we would go sometime. I said that we needed to go now, and his response was again that he would go and talk to them. I could tell I was getting the run-around at this point. I then said that I either needed to see his parents right now, or else I had to go discuss the matter with the Gendarmes (Police). They both then asked what I was going to tell the parents (because they did not want to be viewed as an accessory), and I knew I was beat. My language, while good enough to this point, is not good enough to pick out the exact words I would need for the situation. I was frustrated, but then decided that I would get my host brother to come and help, since he is also fluent in English. Like I said I was getting the run-around big time.
So I get my host brother, and we get back to the shop, and this time the kid is there. I approach him and start asking him “why?!?” The kid looks like he wants to cry and scared all at the same time. He tells me he was “just playing,” and he is sorry. I explain to him that I will never trust him again and that I will always view him as a thief. He tells me he is not a thief, and apologizes again. I also ask him why he ran both times earlier, and did not apologize at those times. He tell me he was scared, and thought I would hit him. I tell him that I came to Morocco to help people, and told him “why should I help people here if they do things like this to me?” The kid just looked down at the ground and apologized again. I told him it was finished, but I would not trust him again, and we parted. I them talked to the chicken-shop owner via translation about how no-one saw anything happen. So that is the story. In the end I was glad I talked face to face with the kid, because if I had talked to his parents or the Gendarmes he would have been beaten. I did not want that to happen.
The most frustrating parts for me are the following:
1. How everyone said they saw nothing happen.
2. How no-one seemed to want to help me, and instead gave me the run around.
If you look back at my post about the sheep, once again, people tend to just turn away and pretend to be blind to things that occur. They feel that it is better for them to stay out of peoples business than to get involved, even though they should help out other people. There is a sad learned helplessness that seems to be prevalent here, and it is frustrating to deal with, whether it is about safety, or whether it is about the environment.
After all was over, I talked with my host brother, who tried to explain to me that this is the way that people here in Morocco can be. I already knew what he was talking about, due to the sheep situation, and also another similar story from another volunteer. My host brother said that people are like that here, and that it is bad. To me it is so frustrating that people can be like this, whether it is here or in America (yes this can happen in some places in America as well). I learned a fair bit from the experience, more about people here than anything. It was not so much the actual kid opening my back that was the worst part, it was everything in the middle that made it ultra-frustrating and annoying.
I will leave you with some happy stuff. I have now moved into my own house, and this is exciting. I am now looking for another cat, as I was told (not to my surprise) that the cat is now accustomed to the place where it has been. But I have a cat in mind, and so I will have a cat within a few days. I also had a great weekend, saw some other volunteers, and am excited about work prospects. Much love to you all and I hope to hear from you soon. Despite this not so happy story, I am incredibly happy and love the people here. I just understand that like all people, they have their shortcomings once in a while.
Album of Choice – Ratatat - “Classics”
Book currently reading - “Life of Pi” – Yann Martel
Much Love! (Expect pictures soon)
I hope that everyone back home is doing well. Despite what you read and may think in this post, I am doing quite well. I just had a not great thing happen, and it was not fun at the time, but it was a good learning experience. What is that you ask?? Here is the story, I will try to be as succinct as I can be.
I was standing the other day talking with a local guy that I usually talk with. He owns a chicken shop, and I was talking with him, and there were about 4 other people there with us. I was facing the back of the shop, and there were two people in front of me. There were two people behind me.
So as I am having this conversation, I feel something on my back-pack (on my back) moving. I quickly turn around, and find that the small compartment has been opened. At the same time I turn around, the kid (12-13 years old) turns and runs away. I walk out of the shop to see where he goes, and then I make sure that I have everything… which luckily I did.
I am pretty flustered by now, and I don’t totally know what to do. I want to find this bonehead kid, but know he is long gone. So I leave, and go to see my site-mate, to see if she is around for her advice. She is not home, so I text her and go back towards the chicken-shop. I stop and talk to a few people, trying to be as normal as possible, and then from the corner of my eye I see the kid back in the chicken shop. I sneak up behind him, so he does not see me, and then when he turns around, I start talking to him.
Now a lot happened in a short time. About the time I start talking to him (actually I was being firm and probably yelling) he is kind of cowering in this corner that I backed him into, as if I am going to lay into him and beat him up (which crossed my mind, but I know better.) I am yelling at him “Where are your parents?!?!?” repeatedly. I get this out about three times, and the chicken-shop owner, afraid that I was going to hit him, tries to get in the middle to make sure this does not happen. The kid/boy/thief took the opportunity and ran away again.
I then told the other people there that I was not going to hit him, and talked to them for a little. I left, walked around, talked to my site-mate, who then gave me a bit of advice, and I went back to the shop and had a few questions for people.
I mainly wanted to know where this kid’s parents lived, and also I wanted to ask if any of them saw anything happen. So I go back to the chicken-shop, and ask what they saw. All four of the people tell me they saw nothing happen. I understand the two people in front of me, one talking to me, the other working on getting a chicken ready. The two behind me also claimed they saw nothing. I completely did not believe them however, and so I told a couple of them that “God sees everything” and “may God cover your sins.” The reason I used these phrases is that the chicken-shop owner is very-religious, and has tried on occasion to discuss religion, something I do very rarely, even back home. I could tell by his reaction that he was hiding something, and this was frustrating.
I begin to ask the two people left in the shop where the kid’s parents were at, and told them that I needed to talk to them. I was told by one of them that it was no problem, and they would talk to the parents. I told him that would not work, and I was the one that needed to talk to them, and now. He said okay, and we would go sometime. I said that we needed to go now, and his response was again that he would go and talk to them. I could tell I was getting the run-around at this point. I then said that I either needed to see his parents right now, or else I had to go discuss the matter with the Gendarmes (Police). They both then asked what I was going to tell the parents (because they did not want to be viewed as an accessory), and I knew I was beat. My language, while good enough to this point, is not good enough to pick out the exact words I would need for the situation. I was frustrated, but then decided that I would get my host brother to come and help, since he is also fluent in English. Like I said I was getting the run-around big time.
So I get my host brother, and we get back to the shop, and this time the kid is there. I approach him and start asking him “why?!?” The kid looks like he wants to cry and scared all at the same time. He tells me he was “just playing,” and he is sorry. I explain to him that I will never trust him again and that I will always view him as a thief. He tells me he is not a thief, and apologizes again. I also ask him why he ran both times earlier, and did not apologize at those times. He tell me he was scared, and thought I would hit him. I tell him that I came to Morocco to help people, and told him “why should I help people here if they do things like this to me?” The kid just looked down at the ground and apologized again. I told him it was finished, but I would not trust him again, and we parted. I them talked to the chicken-shop owner via translation about how no-one saw anything happen. So that is the story. In the end I was glad I talked face to face with the kid, because if I had talked to his parents or the Gendarmes he would have been beaten. I did not want that to happen.
The most frustrating parts for me are the following:
1. How everyone said they saw nothing happen.
2. How no-one seemed to want to help me, and instead gave me the run around.
If you look back at my post about the sheep, once again, people tend to just turn away and pretend to be blind to things that occur. They feel that it is better for them to stay out of peoples business than to get involved, even though they should help out other people. There is a sad learned helplessness that seems to be prevalent here, and it is frustrating to deal with, whether it is about safety, or whether it is about the environment.
After all was over, I talked with my host brother, who tried to explain to me that this is the way that people here in Morocco can be. I already knew what he was talking about, due to the sheep situation, and also another similar story from another volunteer. My host brother said that people are like that here, and that it is bad. To me it is so frustrating that people can be like this, whether it is here or in America (yes this can happen in some places in America as well). I learned a fair bit from the experience, more about people here than anything. It was not so much the actual kid opening my back that was the worst part, it was everything in the middle that made it ultra-frustrating and annoying.
I will leave you with some happy stuff. I have now moved into my own house, and this is exciting. I am now looking for another cat, as I was told (not to my surprise) that the cat is now accustomed to the place where it has been. But I have a cat in mind, and so I will have a cat within a few days. I also had a great weekend, saw some other volunteers, and am excited about work prospects. Much love to you all and I hope to hear from you soon. Despite this not so happy story, I am incredibly happy and love the people here. I just understand that like all people, they have their shortcomings once in a while.
Album of Choice – Ratatat - “Classics”
Book currently reading - “Life of Pi” – Yann Martel
Much Love! (Expect pictures soon)
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